You can tell the deepest truths with the lies of fiction

Tag Archives: #death

There’s a part of the novel “About a Boy” by Nick Hornby where Ellie and Marcus see in the newspaper that Kurt Cobain committed suicide and Ellie gets so sad that she gets drunk, then jumps out of the train and throws a boot at a music shop that had a big Kurt Cobain’s cardboard in the window. She wanted to punish the shop owner who, according to her, was trying to exploit her idol’s death, to make money.

When a musician dies, it’s so sad to see that many greedy shops raise CDs prices and that there is an invasion of merch, without mentioning those who feel like to mourn their loss even if they had never listened to a single song. Was Chris Cornell right when he said that an artist’s work isn’t fully appreciated until their death? Or is it simply the mercenary or narcissistic desire to take advantage from the situation?

Luckily it’s not totally true, thanks to common people and fans and their sincere tributes (on socials I still see a lot of posts for Chester Bennington as I saw for David Bowie last year), sign that the death of a great musician can create a collective sense of loss and nostalgia. They may be gone, but their music and the feelings it gives, will remain forever.

I’m writing this because three days ago it was the 25th anniversary of Jeff Porcaro’s premature passing and the grief is as strong as if it had happened yesterday. As a huge Toto fan, music lover, drummers’ estimator, it’s still something hard to overcome.

In my opinion he’s one of the greatest drummers of all the time and this goes beyond his drumming skills (I know that plenty of drummers can play a Purdie shuffle): it’s about his personal groove, his consistency and also it’s something that goes beyond the notes. He took seriously his profession, he played with passion and dedication, not only with Toto, but also as a session musician. He was one of a kind artist and I totally agree with Steve Lukather that when Toto perform, it’s like Jeff is on stage with them.

(OT: I know that if someone posts something on Snapchat or Instagram story it’s to make it ephemeral and I’m not one of those disrespectful accounts that leak and share these things. But a friend sent me this video of JD playing the Rosanna half time shuffle: it’s something I’ve been craving for four years. So I hope Josh won’t mind… and neither you).

TRACK OF THE DAY: Josh Devine performing the famous Rosanna shuffle

What people post on IG Stories or snapchat shouldn't be reposted, but a friend sent me this:it's a longtime wish come true,hope J won't mind pic.twitter.com/7vegWw24eW

This day is never easy for me. Whoever said that time heals all wounds, was lying because each time I walk past the place where my best friend was involved in a car accident, I still close my eyes. And honestly I still wait for her to pop out from behind a tree how she used to do in our games or to hear her voice when the phone rings.

If the bond was strong, friendship never fade despite death, time and having new friends. We were 17 when it happened, we grew together, we had a special place where we used to play with dolls or Barbies, the same place that has witnessed our secrets and confidences about our first crushes. It hurts sitting there alone.

When a friend grows their wings it’s hard above all because it’s about someone like you, around your age and in the following years, at every milestone of yours, you ask yourself how your friend could be. Alessandra. Would she be a mom? Would she have a job? Would she be happy? Would us still be friends? I don’t know, I just miss her.

This is a personal blog, so don’t look here for a way to cope with grief for a friend’s loss. Personally the only thing that works for me is music: artists can express what it means better than any so called “expert”, their words may caption perfectly how you feel. Look for your grief song, the one closest to your experience and play it on repeat, there also are dedicated playlists on Spotify. It helps a lot, above all on days like birthdays or anniversaries.

Mine is “Never Fade” by Josh Devine and Ollie Green: JD experienced the premature departure of one of his closest friends who was very young and put in music his feelings. Those above are the words I held in my heart, unable to express them until this song came out. I’m playing it since this morning: I’m sure Ale likes it, she loved music so much!

I don’t have Netflix and I’m not a TV shows addict (even if I’ve seen every single episode of ER at least twice), but it’s almost impossible to ignore what’s popular at the moment, due to the huge amount of posts on socials.

I read “13 Reasons Why” when the serie didn’t exist and when it wasn’t on fashion already, because my best friend suggested me this book. The story is about Hannah Baker, a young girl who has committed suicide, but who also previously recorded 13 cassette tapes where she explains the reasons behind her act. Each tape is dedicated to a single person who had a negative impact on her life.

WARNING: SPOILER ALERT

Even if I believe that most of the people commit not because somebody did something bad to them, but because they felt guilty of or uncomfortable with what they experienced, the book wasn’t bad nor triggering at all.

I didn’t like the show (yes, I watched it because I was curious) despite of admitting that its intents were positive and that it was meant to be useful and supportive for teens (ask for help if you feel depressed, you’re not alone, find someone to talk to, denounce bullies and rapists).

It looks like it’s trying to glamorize suicide, since in the book Hannah simply tells that she killed herself by taking a bunch of pills and her act is almost glossed over for the most part. In the show, she slits her wrists and it’s a very detailed scene that could disturb or be triggering to people who experienced or are still into self harming.

The show also tries to suggest a romantic involvement between Clay and Hannah, while in the book they’re no more than friends, I think this was made to lead the viewers to sympathize with the characters. It also gives a bigger importance to the functionality of parents rather than in the book, where they are mere extras.

One thing I like a lot about the show, was the soundtrack: 133 songs for all tastes from Selena Gomez (who is also the executive producer of the TV show and who is very active in social causes) to Vance Joy, passing through Joy Division and hear ye hear ye, The Cure. I was very happy to listen to “Fascination Street”, but there’s another song of theirs that I think it was perfect for the show and it’s “The Reasons why” (it’s also the title of a fan fiction of mine).

My laptop suddenly died with a lot of unsaved stuff in it and I’m currently writing on a borrowed computer which is probably power supplied by dinosaurs, but as it’s said: it’s better than nothing.

It has probably been a good thing for you all, since I had a terrible time, suffering chronic pain, frustration and an insane amount of emotional abuse. It hasn’t got better to be honest, but my wingless angels from this side and from the opposite side of the pond, supported me and both told and demonstrated me that I’m worth loving. Whenever I feel like complaining about how it’s always raining on me, I should remember that I have big umbrellas, some of them are even limited edition. And JD, well, JD always plays a big part in my happiness; I even finally found the answer to the question “Describe him in two words”. I’ve never been able to choose among his infinite qualities, but now I know how to portray him: “nothing compares”.

I read a lot of books as usual, I indulged in Sylvia Plath’s works and that’s something I should avoid, above all when I’m depressed, if I don’t want to end with the head in the oven like her without having written anything notable.

I thought a lot about death lately, suicide, of course, but also about what happens to our beloved stuff once we die. I was in a thrift shop where a friend of mine volunteers and a woman came with a garbage bag full of collectibles, knick-knack and books, saying that her mom died, so she had to make space in the house. I looked at the object thinking about which sentimental value they may had for their owner. We only see a little value decorative item, but maybe it was a present of an ancient lover, the souvenir of a long desired journey, the memory of a funny trip. And it’s sad to think that one day my kids will do the same; they will put my beloved books, my cherished vinyls, my precious signed CD and all my stuff in a black trash bag and bring it to a thrift shop or throw it into the bin.

So, in case someone will put their hands on the drumsticks JD gave to me, please, treasure them, not only because they’re the only pair used for Heartless video, but because they’re my magic wands: I hold them whenever I feel shit and my mood changes because they say “you’re loved!”. They mean more than what they are, love them as I did. Thanks.

When I started this blog, I promised myself I would never vomit in it any complaint about my miserable life. I’m not a lame person or an attention seeker, but chronic illness made me fragile and living with a selfish person who doesn’t support me and rolls his eyes or complains about medical expenses or accuses me of faking diseases, doesn’t help at all. I’m lucky I have wonderful friends to lean on, but sometimes, like today, they’re not enough, so I have to use the healing power of writing.

I got very scared today: I was walking, no worries, no pressure, heading to the supermarket, then I felt a massive chest pain. I tried not to panic since at its worst, hiatus hernia pain can mimic that of a heart attack, but when my left arm went numb, I seriously started worrying. I rushed home (one of my biggest fears is to die alone in the street) and did yoga breathing exercises, chat with all the people I found online, because having also a panic attack was the last thing I needed. I drank an hot chamomile and stayed quiet until the symptoms kinda went away. In the meanwhile my mind had explored all the worst sceneries and dug out all my deepest fears. I don’t fear death, I just don’t want to leave things undone, I was looking around the room and thinking about the book to be given back to the library, to my unfinished fan-fiction, to all the things that I and only I, know, all the friends that would see me disappear without a clue, just because we don’t hang out in real life. These sorts of stupid little things. I texted a friend I called “Annoying pervert” yesterday, because I didn’t want that the last text of mine to him was that joking offence. And then I started thinking that I should tell more to my significant ones that I love them, at least my best friend has the task to tell JD how much I loved him in case I die suddenly, but the others?

I still feel crap, but better, so I decided to write this nonsense post to exorcise my fears and because I’ve always believed that writing sessions have a positive effect on my mind and, why not, on my stupid sick body.